


a form of rage

by besselfcn



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Parent/Child Incest, Sexual Abuse, Sibling Incest, Trans Hanzo Shimada, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, listen nothing good is happening here, threat of forced impregnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-22 15:02:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22851376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/besselfcn/pseuds/besselfcn
Summary: He knows what he did; what he always does. It’s gone on as long as Genji can remember--one of the myriad of ways he keeps his sons pressed into the moulds of the weapons he wants them to be.
Relationships: Genji Shimada/Hanzo Shimada, Hanzo Shimada/Sojiro Shimada
Comments: 3
Kudos: 78





	a form of rage

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sciencefictioness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sciencefictioness/gifts).



> It was sci's birthday almost a month ago, but I didn't get to posting this until now. Happy second birthday!
> 
> Note if you've read my other genzo works you know roughly what's in store here, but make sure you check out those tags just in case.

Genji goes to find his brother the moment the gates of Hanamura close behind Sojiro’s motorcade. 

He would do this anyway--it is an unspoken understanding between them that they will spend the hungry hours of Sojiro’s excursions together, out of sight of bodyguards, away from duty and responsibility for as long as they can shirk it. But this time feels urgent. This time he tears through the compound’s rooms at half a sprint, searching first in dark corners and next in the dojo and finally in Sojiro’s rooms, checking the worst places first so that the acid in his stomach will settle. 

This time Sojiro left with a scowl on his face and a shirt with a button pulled off; miniscule signs of a struggle that Genji had thought he’d beaten out of Hanzo years ago. 

He checks for Hanzo everywhere, and when he finds him he is in the place he least expects--in Hanzo’s room, in his own bed, curled up with the sheets pulled taut around his naked skin. 

“Anija,” Genji says, and locks the door. “I’m here.”

Hanzo is wound taut; then he unfurls, pieces at a time.

Genji pushes away electric green fury that claws at the edges of his vision. Hanzo’s mouth is red and raw; his hair a tangled mess of knots from a fist digging into it. His eyes are empty, far away. His body shakes. 

Worst is his neck--deep red welts too fresh to bruise, but they’ll settle into a sickeningly deep purple soon enough. Criss-crossing patterns. A thin red line from a sash, at first. Then darker; fingers. Raw, animalistic fury. 

“Hanzo,” Genji whispers. He steps slowly, fluidly. Tries to move like himself, like a shadow, and not like their father. “Hanzo, what did he do?”

What a stupid question. Genji hates himself for even saying it. 

He knows what he did; what he always does. It’s gone on as long as Genji can remember--one of the myriad of ways he keeps his sons pressed into the moulds of the weapons he wants them to be. He thinks or knows or hopes that Sojiro gets off as much on the fear, a tangible that crackles through their bodies, as he does on the actual act of fucking them. 

But this is different, somehow. 

Sojiro likes to beat Hanzo within an inch of his life. Sojiro likes to fuck Hanzo sweetly and softly while he reminds him to be patient. These are separate acts that serve separate purposes; they rarely co-occur the way they do for Genji. 

But Hanzo just shakes his head. He can’t say, or he won’t. 

“Help me,” he says simply. 

Genji knows what he means.

“Are you sure?” he asks, because he has to ask. 

Hanzo clutches at his clothes desperately. His eyes are still so far away, but his hands are here--reaching out for Genji, pulling him closer, pulling at the edges of his shirt, and Genji can’t say no. Or he won’t.

“I’ve got you,” he says, and he slips out of his clothes, into bed, underneath the sheets. 

He pulls the covers off of Hanzo only after he’s already straddling him. It gives Hanzo time to look away; tilt his head back and stare at the ceiling.

Genji grinds his teeth together to keep from saying anything at all as he looks down at Hanzo’s body. 

There’s blood mixed with come between his thighs; more marks across his legs. Pinpoint wounds across his stomach. A dragon’s claws, digging in. 

“Hanzo,” Genji asks again. _Do you want this? Now? Are you sure?_

“Don’t make me ask again,” Hanzo pleads, and so Genji doesn’t.

He opens Hanzo’s legs with a gentle hand; they fall easily, and Hanzo sighs, tension draining from his body at the feeling of Genji’s hands on him. Genji slips his fingers into Hanzo’s cunt; he is already or is still warm and wet and loose, but Genji fingers him anyway, lets him get used to the gentle touch instead of a sharp and harsh pain. 

“Do you want to come?” Genji asks.

Hanzo blinks. He still isn’t looking at Genji.

“It’s alright if I do,” he says finally. 

Genji nods. 

It is different than a yes and different than a no. It means _do not pay attention to it_. It means _you don’t have to stop if I seem like I might_. It means _don’t expect that I will_. 

He leans over and presses a kiss into Hanzo’s throat, and fucks him slowly. 

Hanzo’s face stays far away, drifting somewhere between present and past, but he reaches out and lays his hand against Genji’s spine; grounds himself where he can, lets himself go where he can’t. Genji presses his mouth into Hanzo’s, keeps their thighs together, whispers meaningless, senseless things-- _yes, yes, I’m here, yes, oh--_ so that Hanzo does not have to think but can listen, if he wants to. 

Hanzo does not come but he makes soft, contented noises; it’s enough. They’re enough. 

He snaps to attention only when Genji starts breathing heavily, hips stuttering as he gets close. Hanzo reaches out a hand for his chest, panicked suddenly, says, “Don’t--” and Genji does not need to be told twice, even if he doesn’t understand, even if he wants it more than anything; he pulls out and touches himself, spills over Hanzo’s stomach with a gasp. 

The air is hot and humid between them. Everything feels like a dream. 

“Thank you,” Hanzo says. 

After Genji cleans them up, after Hanzo dresses himself, after Genji tries to talk to him and fails because Hanzo will not answer, Genji tries to leave.

Not for long--he is hungry, and Hanzo is being stubborn, and nothing fixes Hanzo’s stubbornness like a moment to himself--but Hanzo grabs his wrist still, stops him and pulls him back to look him in the eye. 

There is something dark circling behind it. Genji’s chest shakes with it.

“What is it,” he asks simply. 

Hanzo breathes. 

“He--,” he begins, and then he stops. Grips Genji’s wrist tighter. _Understand_ , it says. “The scion needs an heir.”

Genji’s first thought, the stupidest thought, is _well, that’s impossible_.

Then understanding crashes over him, like a fist to the temple. 

“No,” Genji says. “No.”

Hanzo’s mouth twitches, a poor imitation of a smile. “That is what I told him,” he says. “I think he was unused to hearing it from me.”

The room is spinning. The world is spinning. Genji finds he is shaking his head. 

“The injections--” he says, already knowing what an idiot he is.

“He could order them stopped,” Hanzo says. 

Genji knows. Of course he knows. Hanzo’s medication, like food, like shelter, like air to breathe, are not a right but a gift given. 

“I would kill him,” Genji says. He knows it with more certainty than he has ever known anything. “I would kill him before I would let him do this to you.”

Hanzo looks at him, then. Really looks at him. 

A thrill goes through Genji’s spine.

He would never say it out loud. He never could. Somehow, if he did, Genji thinks Sojiro might hear it, even miles away. 

But the look in his eyes, the marks on his throat, the threat looming over the both of them like a scythe, is loud enough for only Genji to hear. 

_So do it_ , Hanzo says, with the hand that he presses to Genji’s chest. _So do it. So do it._

**Author's Note:**

> Title from BCS by Boy & Bear
> 
> Find me places @besselfcn. Also, read sci's work.


End file.
